


Let Your Love Be Strong

by enigmaticblue



Series: The Letters 'Verse [3]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of a soldier was all about waiting, but Booth didn't think there had ever been anything quite so excruciating as waiting for the next message from Brennan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Love Be Strong

Booth trudged through the camp, feeling as though he had half the dust of Kabul on him, but as tired as he was, it had been a good day. Three insurgents caught—this time _before_ they’d executed their plan to blow up themselves and others in a marketplace.

 

On days like today, Booth could remember why he’d come to train young soldiers. He could trust that he was making a difference.

 

He settled into his tent, safely stowing his weapon and pack, and giving brief thought to dinner. With a grimace, Booth dug around in the footlocker at the base of his cot for one of the MREs he’d stashed. He usually went to the mess for dinner, but on nights like this, he just wanted fuel and sleep.

 

Booth stripped off his jacket and took off his boots, then logged onto his computer. It was too early to hope for an email from Bones; she generally answered emails once every few weeks.

 

He rubbed weary eyes that refused to focus, and leaned in a little closer. Rebecca’s email topped the list, and he grinned when he realized that she’d sent pictures of Parker’s latest Midget Football game.

 

_Parker scored the winning touchdown, you’ll be happy to know_, the accompanying message read. _He was thrilled, and he told everyone who would listen that his dad the Army Ranger taught him how to throw. We’re really proud of you, Seeley. Stay safe._

 

He smiled softly as he looked through the pictures—Parker standing with another boy in pads and a uniform, and in the middle of the end zone with his arms raised in exultation. Booth swallowed hard, the feeling of homesickness so strong it was nearly overwhelming.

 

Booth had shepherded a few young Rangers through fierce bouts of homesickness, but he didn’t have anyone to do the same for him.

 

There were the usual messages from Cam and Angela, both of whom seemed to think it was their duty to keep Booth up to date. Cam’s message made him laugh out loud: _Michelle broke up with Perry, or maybe it’s the other way around. Be grateful you have a son, Seeley. A teenage girl has more drama than all the interns, Hodgins, and Angela put together. Think I’m kidding? When you get back, I’m going to make you come over for dinner, just so you can listen to all of it._

 

Booth slowly typed out a message in response. _If you think a teenage girl is bad, you should try Rangers. These kids are a handful, and I don’t have rooms to send them to._

 

Thinking better of the email, Booth added, _But they’re good kids for the most part. They’re young and homesick and horribly innocent. They’re green, but they’re willing to learn. There’s one who reminds me a lot of Wendell, actually. Tough and street smart. I’m thinking about recommending him for officer’s training._

 

It was the first time Booth had ever talked about it, but he found typing it out solidified his intention to recommend Lee for advancement. He was smart and careful, and he learned quickly. He’d make a good officer, a good leader.

 

Eventually, maybe Lee would get out of the Army and try the FBI.

 

Booth frowned when he opened Angela’s email, not quite understanding her message: _I found this on my hard drive the other day and uploaded it to YouTube. I sent a link to Brennan, too. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?_

 

With a feeling of trepidation, Booth clicked on the link, then waited impatiently for the video to load and buffer. He drummed his fingers on the small table and got up to pace at one point.

 

When he heard the roaring of the crowd, Booth plunked down in his camp chair with a huff, staring at the small screen of his secondhand laptop. Buck Moosejaw was throwing knives at his wife—no, around his wife. He had no idea how Angela had gotten her hands on the video, but…

 

No, wait. Bones had set up a video cam so that those at the Jeffersonian could watch their act. Someone had saved it, and apparently Angela had uploaded it.

 

Booth swallowed hard as he watched Bones standing against the painted plywood, the red clown nose on. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d made that shot, or what had made him take it.

 

Bones had shown such trust, Booth couldn’t quite figure it out.

 

He shot off a response to Angela: _Thanks. I didn’t even know there was a record of that show._

 

Booth watched it half a dozen times before he made himself close the window down. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. Booth had locked down his longing for Bones over the last months, containing his desire to needing her next email, and to knowing she was alive. But seeing her—even if it was on poorly shot video, even if it was from two years ago—awakened that old need.

 

The life of a soldier was all about waiting, but Booth didn’t think there had ever been anything quite so excruciating as waiting for the next message from Brennan.

 

Booth shut his computer down and collapsed into bed, closing his eyes to dream of Buck and Wanda Moosejaw and the knives of death.

 

He woke in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had emerged from behind the horizon, and Booth couldn’t quite resist the urge to check his email. D.C. was half a day behind him, and Paris several hours behind, so it was possible that someone might have sent a message in the few hours he’d been asleep.

 

Bones’ name came up on his email, and Booth’s eyebrows went up when he saw her name in his in-box. “I didn’t think—”

 

_As the head of the Maluku dig, I can exercise my authority to check my email more often than I have been doing_, her email began. _And I saw the link that Angela sent us. Do you ever wish that we were really Buck and Wanda, out on the road?_

 

“Yes,” he thought. “Yes, I wish we were on the open road together, looking for the next town over the horizon. I wish we were living in a crappy trailer, sleeping in the same bed, making it rock every night for real.”

 

He wished for Brennan, here in his tent, in his cot, _with_ him in every sense of the word.

 

_I wish you were here, Booth. I still remember what you said, about being _the_ guy_._ I miss you. I think, maybe, when we get back… I can see the advantage of change now. I think I could evolve. I’d like to try._

_I’d like to try to be the Wanda to your Buck_.

 

Booth stared at the screen, wondering if he could take her words at face value, wondering if she meant them. Wondering if she meant the way she signed all her emails. _Love, Bones_. That’s what she always said, and Booth just didn’t get it, he didn’t understand if she really meant it.

 

_I wish we had the chance to try_, Booth wrote in response. _Do you think we could try a video chat soon? We’re in different time zones, but not too different. What do you say, Bones?_

 

Booth needed to see her, he needed to hear her voice, and there was no other way it was going to happen. He felt as though he was stepping out on a limb, but he _needed_ Bones, and there was no other choice.

 

Nine months until he was going home, nine months until he’d see Bones again otherwise. It was too long.

 

_I want to see you_.

 

It was the only thing he could think of to say.


End file.
